


Patience Perforce

by benvoliio



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: And Lots of It, Choking, Foreplay, M/M, NSFW, PSA! if tybalt and mercutio can practice safe sex You Can Too!!!, PWP, Sex, Teasing, WHY SO MUCH SEX, a little & consensual, anyway, enjoy, i love them, it's not impossible!, just these assholes again, maybe i should tag that there's a lot of teasing, safe sex, sex sex sex, thats pretty much as bad as it gets i think, they use lube!! and condoms!!! wow!!!, this got out of hand real fast, uhhh what else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-04-19 01:19:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benvoliio/pseuds/benvoliio
Summary: “I warned you, bitchface.” Tybalt glowered down, contemplating which eye he should blacken first. Mercutio squirmed, but couldn't escape Tybalt’s knees stradling his calves. Tybalt rather liked this angle, Mercutio’s perfect hair splayed like a halo in the dirt, his stupid polo vest exposing his chest that rose and fell unevenly as he caught his breath, and the line of his hips through his jeans that really did not leave much to the imagination, holy shit. Fuck.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to start on chapter three of These Violent Delights, but instead ended up with 1855 words of PWP. The first part isn't explicit but the rating will go up once I fix up chapter two, so until then: enjoy this.
> 
> UPDATE while fixing the second part it somehow DOUBLED IN LENGTH so now i have 3043ish words of shameless smut (also my first & so far only nsfw piece so... be gentle...... i don't really know what i'm talking about lmao)

 

_TYBALT: Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting/Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. (1.5.100-101)_

The day was hot, and Tybalt Capulet was abroad. The few townspeople he passed on his way to the fencing court were shading their eyes with their hands to squint through the shimmering air. Nobody spoke beyond minimal passing pleasantries, everyone focused on getting home, getting indoors, getting out of this damn sun. Tybalt strode on past buildings that looked half melted, the air so thick it felt more like swimming. He scowled at a browning patch of coriander in somebody’s front garden. Sweat trickled uncomfortably down his back. He tried unsuccessfully to convince himself it was the first few drops of a brisk rain shower. Punching his way through a withered tangle of coral orange rose bushes, his destination was in sight. Finally. He shifted his gear bag onto his other shoulder and sighed in anticipation of the cool, rejuvenating interior of the fencing house.

Stepping forward into the street, Tybalt found himself turning before he even registered the footsteps as his instincts kicked in. Milliseconds later, Mercutio was pinned under his forearm, grinning mischievously.

“Afternoon, Capulet,” he said casually, “Fancy running into you.”

Tybalt grimaced, seeing his chances of a refreshing fencing practice dwindle to zero.

“Alright, asshole. What do you want?”

“Only the pleasure of your jovial company! It’d be a shame to waste a beautiful day like this alone.”

“I beg to differ.”

Mercutio laughed, springing to his feet. He had apparently determined the incessant heat could be conquered by abandoning most of his clothes, leaving him in only a low hanging pair of tattered jeans and a polo ripped down the middle into some kind of makeshift vest that would make anyone else look like they’d been knocked down a hill after being hit by a truck. Of course, Tybalt noted, Mercutio looked like he’d just left the set of a glamour shoot. He pouted slightly as Mercutio ran his hands through his perfectly tousled hair. Why couldn’t the heat make Mercutio as miserable as it did the rest of the world? He was unbothered, untouchable. What a piece of work.

“I was thinking we could go to the boardwalk. It’s supposed to be this warm for a couple days, may as well make use of it.” Mercutio began to wander down the sidewalk, and Tybalt, despite his intentions otherwise, fell into step beside him.

“That’s a six hour drive.”

“All the more time to spend with your favourite person in the world, babe.” Mercutio coaxed, draping an arm lavishly over Tybalt’s shoulder. “ _Moi_.”

Tybalt twitched a grin before shuffling free.

“I’m sure there are far better contenders for that role.”

“Yeah? How come you have so much free time, then? And why would you spend so much of it with me, if you actually have friends?”

“I have friends, asshat.” Tybalt huffed.

“Sure, Jan.” Mercutio stuck his tongue out. Tybalt rolled his eyes. “Friends that only hang around because you might kill them if they leave don’t count as friends.”

Tybalt folded his arms, ignoring the twinge of genuine hurt.

“At least I don’t hang around Montague dogs like you. Copying your every move as if you’re some kind of role model. Idiots.”

Mercutio laced his fingers behind his head, walking backwards.

“You say ‘as if’ like I’m not the prime example of a citizen of Verona.”

“A perfect specimen.”

“Do I detect a hint of sarcasm, Capulet?”

“Just stop.” Tybalt groaned.

He didn’t mean physically stop, but that was exactly what Mercutio did.

“Stop what?”

“ _That_. Trying to rile me up. Not today.”

“Why?”

“Stop.” God, why did Mercutio have to be so insufferable? Sometimes he just wanted to find a way to keep his stupid mouth closed. Maybe if he hit hard enough he could knock a few teeth out. That’d shut him up for a while. If only it wasn’t so hot. If only it wasn’t so fucking stupid hot, he’d break his nose that second.

Mercutio stared, grin wide but something sharper behind his eyes.

“Why?”

Tybalt lunged, and Mercutio was on the ground again.

“Say ‘why’ again. I dare you.” Tybalt growled, one hand digging into Mercutio’s windpipe, the other clenched in a fist above his head.

“Why—” Mercutio choked out, before wrenching himself free of Tybalt’s grip and twisting so that the subsequent assault only glanced his shoulder. “Fuck! That _hurt_!”

“I warned you, bitchface.” Tybalt glowered down, contemplating which eye he should blacken first. Mercutio squirmed, but couldn't escape Tybalt’s knees stradling his calves. Tybalt rather liked this angle, Mercutio’s perfect hair splayed like a halo in the dirt, his stupid polo vest exposing his chest that rose and fell unevenly as he caught his breath, and the line of his hips through his jeans that really did not leave much to the imagination, holy _shit_. Fuck.

Tybalt’s eyes were still affixed to Mercutio’s waistline and the demesnes that lay adjacent when in a blur of movement a heavy force slammed into his abdomen and he found himself flat on the ground. Mercutio leaned down, his foot pressing into Tybalt’s chest as he brushed the point of a fencing rapier under Tybalt’s chin.

“Enjoying the view?” Mercutio smirked.

Tybalt swallowed as his own blade traced his jugular. He’d enjoyed towering over his arch nemesis, but this view was better. Far better.

“Immensely.”

Mercutio dropped heavily onto Tybalt’s chest, but Tybalt hardly noticed because suddenly their lips were crashing together and Mercutio’s fingers were tangled in his hair and Tybalt had to push him away to gasp _wait,_ to breathe _indoors_. They stumbled towards the Escalus estate, abandoning Mercutio’s polo vest and Tybalt’s fencing doublet in their wake. After slipping through a side door Tybalt turned towards the stairs to Mercutio’s room but Mercutio shook his head and whispered _too warm,_ motioned _cellar_ , and led him down into the basement guest bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!!!! you have been warned!!!! (also how the hell did this turn out twice the length of the first part wtf)

There was a pause, a moment of silence heavy with anticipation as Mercutio locked the door, and then they collided explosively, like fire and powder: each kiss overpowering and all-consuming. Mercutio snaked his arms around Tybalt’s torso and slipped his hands into his back pockets, grinning against Tybalt’s lips as he fished out a few small foil squares.

“You came prepared.”

“I—” Tybalt’s breath caught in his throat as Mercutio’s teeth moved to his jawline, and then travelled slowly down to his collarbone. “I couldn’t very well leave it to someone as impulsive as you, now could I?”

Mercutio’s eyes flashed and he cackled. “Put the condom on, asshole. Unless you want me to _impulsively_ do it for you.” He brought his knee up between Tybalt’s thighs and Tybalt shuddered, stifling a moan. A second moan was less successfully smothered as Mercutio’s fingertips slid under the hem of his jeans, sliding them to the floor along with his underwear. He moved quickly, eagerly, to deal with the condom as Mercutio grabbed a second and began to pull off his own jeans, and then Mercutio turned back around and _there he was._ Tybalt had never seen anybody, any _body_ so sublime. He gazed longingly at Mercutio’s skin still glistening with sweat, although Tybalt had long ago forgotten the boiling heat of the sun outside. Now, the warmth radiated from his core, and from Mercutio, and his wandering eyes gave way to hands as they fell together once more, this time tumbling onto cool sheets.

“What do you want, Capulet?” Mercutio sighed as Tybalt let his hands roam free.

“It’s _Tybalt_ , you bastard, and I want _you_.” Tybalt whined.

“Fine,” Mercutio sat up, swinging a leg over until he was kneeling in front of Tybalt on the bed. He grabbed Tybalt’s hand and began kissing up his arm, his shoulder, his neck— until their lips met. “You got me.”

Tybalt looked down. His hand was resting limply on Mercutio’s dick. A dick move.

“Oh, fuck you!” Tybalt began stroking Mercutio’s length, “This is not what I meant and you know it.”

“Yeah, but fuck, it feels good.” Mercutio moaned, “Keep at it, babycakes.”

Tybalt rolled his eyes and moved closer to Mercutio. “If you call me that again I will kill you.”

“Fine by me— Oh!”

Tybalt liked that sound. He liked that sound a lot. He wanted to make Mercutio make more of that sound, so he applied both hands to the task, nipping at Mercutio’s chest as he moaned into his hair until he pushed him away.

“Enough! Enough! It’s your turn, it’s your turn!”

Tybalt grinned from where he’d fallen back against the pillows and the headboard, satisfied. He opened his knees and stared invitingly.

“About time.”

“Whatever, asshole. I’m gonna make you wait a little longer, though.”

Tybalt frowned.

“Why?”

Laughing, Mercutio replied, “Look who’s asking why now. The tides have once again turned, Tybalt Capulet. I’m going to make you beg.”

Tybalt felt a thrill run through to his toes.

“You wouldn’t. You can’t.”

“Oh can’t I?” Mercutio moved closer on hands and knees, crawling between Tybalt’s legs until their faces were inches apart. “We’ll see.”

Mercutio kissed Tybalt, gently, achingly slowly, simultaneously running light fingers up the insides of Tybalt’s thighs. Tybalt heard a soft, sickly sweet noise, and it took a moment before he realised it had come from him. Mercutio continued to trace his fingertips higher, closer and closer to what was becoming a tightly coiled mass of heat and sensation, but never touching quite enough.

“F-fuck.”

“What was that, love?” Mercutio smiled knowingly. “Something to say?”

“N… no.” Tybalt replied. “Not to you, asshole.”

“Mmmm.” Mercutio hummed, brushing another line of kisses up Tybalt’s neck, “Well, I must say, this is quite different from our usual interactions. Wasn’t it just earlier today I had a sword at your throat?”

Mercutio’s teeth grazed contemplatively against his skin and Tybalt moaned, his stubbornness beginning to falter. Mercutio moved his hand upwards again, trailing lightly over Tybalt’s member, every movement creating ripples of barely contained pleasure.

“That was quite enjoyable,” he mused, tracing the lines of a smiley face with his left hand, “I’m sure you certainly felt it was... exciting.”

“ _Fuck_ , Mercutio.” Tybalt gasped.

“What, this desperate already? Patience, my dear, sweet Tybalt.”

Mercutio sat back, and Tybalt had to stop himself from whining at the absence of his hands.

“What are you—”

“Shhh,”

He reached over to the bedside table and slid open the top drawer.

“What are you _doing?_ ” Tybalt asked harshly. Every inch of skin that Mercutio had touched was twitching from phantom caresses, but before Tybalt could reach down to compensate for the lack of sensation Mercutio slammed the drawer shut and moved back into place.

“Not so fast, my love.” He produced a slender lilac tube from behind his back. “You’ll get your turn, but not just yet. Close your eyes.”

“But—” Tybalt protested.

“Close!”

With an infuriated huff, Tybalt obeyed. Several painfully long moments of silence followed, and through his haze of need and impatience Tybalt imagined Mercutio looking him up and down, deciding the best location for this next round of prolonged, torturous foreplay. Despite having seen the tube and quickly deciphering Mercutio’s intent, Tybalt jumped all the same when the silence was broken by the pop of the lid opening. He flinched again when the first drop of cool, smooth lubricant hit his chest.

“How’s that?” Tybalt could hear the smirk in Mercutio’s voice. “Cooling your temper?”

It was doing the exact opposite of cooling anything, every drop was sending fresh waves of boiling blood coursing through his veins. His eyes flew open but he kept his mouth shut, not trusting his growing need not to emerge in the form of a humiliating whine. He wanted Mercutio, wanted him so badly, and any last reservoirs of self control were quickly draining away. Mercutio seemed to recognize this, his stupid, enraging grin growing wider as he signed an ‘M’ with his finger through the mess of liquid.

“M for Mercutio. Or,” he chuckled, “M for _mine_.”

Tybalt realized he had been holding his breath.

“ _Mercutio_.” Exhaling heavily, Tybalt attempted to regain his composure. He’d tell Mercutio exactly what he thought of this little game, he’d show him, if only words weren’t so difficult. “Mercutio, fuck, I— I won’t—” he gasped as Mercutio trailed slick fingertips over his lips, “You’ll never—”

He cut himself off, Mercutio was sitting back again.

“What— What are—?” It was so hard to think, let alone form coherent sentences. Every neuron in his brain was consumed with want and he was becoming more of a mess every second. Mercutio only smiled, eyes bright and lively, content to let Tybalt continue to make a fool of himself. Why couldn’t he speak? How could Mercutio reduce him to a sniveling, mewling kitten with just half an hour and a bed?  

Words failed altogether when Mercutio began to empty the tube onto his own erection, the excess liquid trickling down onto Tybalt’s thighs. This prompted a sound somewhere between a shout and a sob, and Tybalt’s hands flew once again to alleviate the now throbbing tension before Mercutio intercepted them. Tybalt growled, grabbing at Mercutio’s hips. His thighs trembled with forced anticipation.

“Ask me to.” Mercutio commanded. “What do you want from me, Tybalt?”

The dam broke, and all of Tybalt’s words returned in a babbling, pleading rush. “I want you to fuck me, I need you, I need you to—”

“Please.”

“ _Please_ , please fuck me, hold me down and fuck me, Mercutio, _please_!”

Mercutio grinned and leaned down, drawing Tybalt into a kiss.

“That’s more like it.”

Tybalt moaned in reply, bruising his lips against Mercutio’s teeth.

“Why are you so fucking hot? Fuck, Mercutio. I love you. I love you. Please.”

Mercutio looked startled, and Tybalt sighed, pulling Mercutio on top of him.

“Please,” he whined into Mercutio’s mouth, “My love, my life, please.”

The confidence returned to Mercutio’s expression, although Tybalt could tell he was genuinely touched and more than a little surprised. Anyone would be, the Tybalt Capulet of the streets wouldn’t be caught dead with words as soft as those in his mouth. And that’s how he felt, soft. Not physically— he still had a raging boner, after all— but Mercutio’s kiss had transformed his need from a pot on the verge of boiling over to a echoing cavern filled with music, and Mercutio had the score. A touch became a crescendo; a brush of lips a triumphant cadenza. Everything was gold-tinted and rosy, and Tybalt was content to let Mercutio have his way with him.

Mercutio entered, finally, _finally,_ and Tybalt cried out loudly, joyously.

“Fuck! Yes, Mercutio, that’s it.” He bucked his hips encouragingly, trying to match Mercutio’s slow but purposeful rhythm.

Mercutio heaved a few uneven breaths, seemingly having to concentrate to keep control.

“Say it again. Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels— it feels like heaven. Keep fucking me, love, you can do whatever the fuck you want to me. I’ll—oh! I’ll take it. I’ll take anything. Fuck!”

Mercutio moaned, his steadfast, patient facade finally chipping away. Tybalt could tell he wanted this as badly as he did, if not more so. He pulled Mercutio’s face closer to his, attempting hot, open kisses between pants and moans. Laying back down into the pillows, he guided Mercutio’s left hand to his neck, followed by his right hand to his wrists crossed above his head. Mercutio’s long, slender fingers easily wrapped around both of Tybalt’s wrists. Tybalt revelled in the parallel between Mercutio’s other hand splayed across his jawline and their similar position in the dirt earlier that day. Those roles were now gloriously reversed. He grinned, gasping quick breaths when the pressure on his windpipe lessened, and whimpering in pleasure when it didn’t. Mercutio’s moans became less restrained, more desperate, and his pace began to increase and destabilize, their hips fumbling out of sync more often than moving in unison.

Finally, Tybalt felt the space between waves of pleasure become almost undetectable, and the honey-sweet, coiling pressure in his core began to build exponentially. Mercutio looked absolutely wrecked, his eyes wine dark and drunk on pleasure. He imagined his appearance was much the same. He cried out as Mercutio thrust deeper than before and he felt his internal symphony approaching its climax. Mercutio suddenly released his neck and wrists and fell on top of him, hips rolling fervently. Tybalt gasped, tangling his fingers in Mercutio’s hair.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, fuck, _Tybalt_!”

Mercutio came first, quickly prompting Tybalt to follow suit, and for a few sublime seconds that was all that existed in the world: Mercutio and Tybalt, Tybalt and Mercutio, entangled in rapturous ecstasy.

They lay where they were for a few quiet, blissful minutes, until their vision cleared and their breathing settled. Then Mercutio rolled off of Tybalt and sat up.

“So,” he grinned, “Better than fencing?”

“Shut up, you ass.” Tybalt grimaced as speaking disturbed the bruises that were already starting to form around his neck.

“Ooooh, have fun hiding those.”

“I said shut up!” Tybalt threw a large pillow at Mercutio, knocking him backwards onto the bed, but he knew the upturned corners of his mouth gave away his jovial, afterglow-induced state of mind.

“Hey!” Mercutio emerged from under the mass of cotton and stuffing. “Keep that up, and you won’t be having sex with me until the sun burns out!”

“Well, with the little lesson you taught me today that shouldn’t be so long of a wait.” Tybalt smirked. “I think I can handle it.”

“Asshole.” Mercutio shuffled over beside Tybalt and draped an arm over his chest.

“Your favourite asshole.”

Mercutio laughed. “That’s true.”

Relaxing in each other’s warmth, they spent the rest of the day together in bed until the sun set and they snuck out of the Escalus estate. Once again creatures of the outside world, they tore through the still of the city together, looking for trouble in the darkness. The streets were mostly empty, but Tybalt didn't doubt they’d find something to entertain themselves. And if not, well, there was always the boardwalk. Six hours with Mercutio seemed like a piece of cake— god knows he'd learned how to be patient.


End file.
